


Morning Moods

by agentbouquet



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Canonical Character Death, M/M, Rating May Change, Tags May Change, everyone will appear at some point probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-10 14:51:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12301452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentbouquet/pseuds/agentbouquet
Summary: Robert comes into the Coffee Spoon almost every morning. He's been coming in for as long as he's lived in Maple Bay. So it's no surprise Mat has gotten used to Robert's presence to the point he can tell how Robert is feeling just by which coffee drink he orders. Any good shopkeeper makes it a point to get to know their regulars, and any good neighbor would lend a hand wherever possible, but their more personal history probably gives Mat an edge in that case too. He often catches himself reminiscing about yesteryear, and Robert has caught him staring once or twice. Mat knows all too well what it's like to miss someone who's not there. But is it really possible to miss someone you see everyday?





	1. Caffe L-a-ha-tte

Robert's always been a bit of a mystery. Yet, it wasn't until after he became more reserved and scarce throughout the week that he seemed to be more approachable when he did decide to come around, as ironic as it was. That is to say, after Marilyn passed.

When the Smalls first moved in, it was always only Robert and Marilyn. I’ve been aware of the fact they had at least one daughter, but they didn’t talk about her too much all those years. Almost a decade has passed since then, now that I recall. But even so, I can still remember what a gorgeous woman Marilyn Small was. A little smaller, but not short or dainty. Narrow eyes full of kindness and softly wrinkled by laughter. A proud nose with a mole on her left nostril, like her coolness factor gave her an inborn piercing among others that adorned her ears. Long, dark, wavy hair that cascaded down sunkissed skin that, along with her way of speaking, gave away her Latina heritage. It didn't surprise me to learn the Smalls were both Puerto Rican to some degree. It was one of the many things I learned about them. They visited The Coffee Spoon very often, and we got to talking most days, especially when Marilyn got a chance to coo at and talk with my little Carmensita.

But Robert had always made me nervous, even more so back then. He was friendly, but it was a chaotic friendliness, almost borderline volatile some days. But despite that, he did, and still does, compliment the coffee.

…

"So, uh, Mat, right? What exactly could ya make me here that I couldn't make at home?"  
"Rob!"

A swift but light punch to the chest from the woman let me know that she and her companion here were not shy in the very least, which only made me nervous. It was a little after nine-thirty in the morning, and they were last in line from the lingering morning rush. I had never seen them before though, which was a rare thing these days. I knew everyone who came in the morning, and it wasn’t until evening that strange faces started to appear. Usually quick footed shoppers looking for a sweet treat as they walked the streets of down town. But, yeah, that’s a completely different topic. Also those accents are definitely not from around here.

He held his chest in mock pain. "Not that I don't dig the place," he assured, though it was more towards her than me. "I like the look of it."  
"Yeah, it has a real nice feel to it,” she agrees, facing me. “And it smells delicious."  
"But." The man I know now as Rob smiles as he gives his lady friend the side-eye. She does the same, unamused. "What exactly do ya think I'd like, as I am admittingly particular about my cup o' joe?"

He finally looks at me again, but his smile falls a little. Just a little.

Alright, I thought, Here goes my first sales pitch of the day.

"Well, no matter your set up at home, espresso has always been a signature of coffee shops. Many specialty drinks are made using espresso specifically, and if you don't have the right equipment, you're just drinking very strong coffee. Of course, if you like it like that, as strong as you may make it, keep doing what you're doing, but I'd be happy to let you taste the difference."  
"So then, do you recommend I drink a shot of espresso?"

The woman rolls her eyes at her companion. He must pull this kind of thing a lot. But it looks like they’re not really in any hurry to be anywhere, and no one else needs attending. So, I guess it’s fine? Her long wavy hair is pulled up into a slightly messy ponytail, some shorter strands strategically falling in her face. She’s wearing a simple top under a cardigan sweater with leggings it looks like. Very cute look. He’s just wearing a t-shirt and jeans under a zipper hoodie, and his hair looks disheveled, but it kind of works for him. He fills out that hoodie pretty well, too. Very street casual.

"Uh, not exactly just an espresso, no. But if you'd like a shot of espresso, then just say the word and I'll start it for you."  
"No, no, thanks. As much as I like my caffeine, I don't like the flavor overload. Besides, when I am in the mood for a stronger brew than a normal drip, I just whip out the ol' moka pot. Old but good. And portable too. Great for camping."

He gives me a smirk, seeming to challenge me. I know about moka pots, as difficult as they may be to keep consistent. At one time, maybe they were enough, but that’s just not a true espresso…Either way, I think maybe I can still win him over…I’m not sure why I’m suddenly so invested in winning him over, I’d probably never see this couple again anyway. I chalked it up to just being that guy thing. It’s usually not a thing I do, I actually really dislike it, but, well, maybe meeting his…insistence with simple politeness would soften him up a bit?

"C'mon Rob, be nice," the woman scolds. "It's a cute place and so close to the house too! Are ya really gonna get us kicked out of the first store we come into?"  
"Oh, you live around here?"  
"Yeah!” She immediately lights up. “We just made the official move today. We're in a house in the cul-de-sac a block down from here.” Her smile is welcoming and warm. Simply dazzling.  
"No kidding, I've been wondering about the recent activity across the street. I live in that little neighborhood too."  
"Well, how about that."

I see Rob is still waiting for a reason to stay, but I think I got the perfect reason now.

"I'm Marilyn, and this unbearably charming man is my husband, Robert," she says as she motions between them, apologetic smile on her face.  
"Well, Robert, it's settled. Now I have to convince you. And though a moka pot can't make the thick body and crema that comes along with a machine like mine, if you just want a stronger brew, it is a good method. But you’re also missing out on espresso's mouth feel and texture. So, what I recommend to you is a specialty drink called a caffe latte, though most just call it a latte."  
"Isn't that just coffee and milk?"  
"That's actually referred to as a white coffee,” I explain, careful to stay polite. I’m not entirely sure if he really doesn’t know the difference, but I feel like he might… I shouldn’t assume things. “A caffe latte is a double shot of espresso topped with steamed milk. Personally, I think the caffe latte is one of the best drinks and is rightfully popular as it is. The strong, concentrated flavor of the espresso is smoothed over by steamed milk's sweeter notes, but you still get that crema's aromatic scent and taste come through. And the velvety texture of the resulting microfoam perfectly complements espresso's thick body. Steamed milk is another little signature of coffee shop's too, since it also needs special equipment for its preparation. Things like frothed milk, or simple milk or creamer are all things you could work with at home, but the caffe latte is quite a unique drink to a place like this.”  
"Well...shit."  
…I realize I may have over explained myself... again...ugg. Well, can’t let my smile drop now.  
"In that case I guess I'm having a..." He scans the menu and his face immediately crinkles as he snorts. "Caffe La-a-ha-tte.” He giggles before he can finish and Marilyn tries to politely cover her own growing grin. "That’s amazing. Did ya do that just to hear people say that all day?"  
I grin, guilty. "Maybe. It's one of those things that always catches attention."

l admit it's not the most clever, but I never do get tired of the way people pronounce it, or the different laughs I get out of it.

"I love it. One Caffe La-a-ha-tte, for me."  
"Alright, and for the lady?"  
"How about a...oh wow, a Ricky Mocha…? Oh, like Ricky Martin! 'And her skins the color of Mocha.' One of those, please!"

It's always nice to see people tickled by my coffee puns, whether laughing with or at. And it makes me wonder if they really enjoy those bands too. Ah, so many questions I'd love to ask...

"Coming right up. Please make yourselves comfortable, I'll bring them right out."

I get to it and the two find a place to sit. I can't help but fixate on them though. These two were going to be my new neighbors, so naturally I’m just curious. And I noticed right away once they're alone, Robert seems to become openly affectionate while Marilyn laughs and bats him away. It makes me think they have a good relationship, which is always nice to see. Especially since they did look a little older too. Not terribly old, but with so much laughter going on, I could see it in their eyes. Maybe their late thirties? Early forties? Hmmm…

"Here we are, careful they're hot."  
"Thank-you!"  
"Thanks, Mat."  
"Hold on just a sec!” I rush back to the counter and bring back two plates. "As customary to neighborly tradition, I bring the gift of sweet treats on the house. Two slices of my Patti Smith Apple Pie to be exact."  
Robert is just about to take a sip when he let’s out a hearty, “HA!” nearly dropping his latte. Marilyn squeaks in surprise before laughing at Robert who sets his drink down, shoulders shaking in silent giggles.  
"Oh no, I'm so sorry let me get you some napkins!"  
"No, no!" Marilyn assures, "I can get them."  
"I insist!"  
Their giggling is contagious as I get them a hand full of napkins. Wow what a treat to have a couple who laugh at my jokes in the area. But as always, the reactions I get to these jokes really vary and I forget I may cause someone to choke. A bad thing, obviously, but it also feels good.

After talking a bit more with them about puns and other musicians of yore, I leave them to enjoy their dessert. They both have different tastes, but tastes I can appreciate. I can’t help but look over more than once or twice though. I grow more curious about them the more I try to imagine what having new neighbors will be like. It’s a bit nerve racking, but they do seem cool. And since they’re going to be my new neighbors, I should try to be friendly with them, right? Not going overboard, of course, but I do want them to leave with a good impression…Or, maybe I’m just overthinking it, again. As usual... Maybe that Robert guy threw me off my groove more than I thought. I’m sure he wasn’t trying to be rude or anything, but he really knows how to, ah, keep you on your toes. All I really want is some assurance we won’t hit a rough patch as neighbors so early on. They haven't even finished moving…

When they finish, Robert comes up to the counter while Marilyn heads to the bathroom.  
"Say Mat, how’s your house blend? Think I might try a cup for the road."  
Maybe it really is just that thing that men tend to do, but I can feel him sizing me up as he relaxes against the counter. His eyes are so dark and piercing…  
"Well it's a special blend I put together, guaranteed to wake you up and keep you going when you need it. And tasty too, heh."  
"Great, I'll take a small to go. Gotta get the house all in order and junk, so I better see results."  
Playful…and kind of threatening…I turn my back towards him to set a fresh pot, "One fresh Godspeed You! Black Coffee, coming up."  
"Now I haven't heard of that one, but if that ain't some grand name for classic cup of coffee. Really sends you on your way, huh?"  
"Well Godspeed You! Black Emperor is this 90's Canadian rock band I-"

Realization hits me like a lightning bolt, and I'm suddenly very aware of the fact I'm geeking out in front of this particular man. It really shouldn't matter, but I find myself held back by an illogical embarrassment. I hate when that happens.

"...find influential to the experimental rock genre...Uh…” I turn back, letting the drip do its thing, “They’re not terribly well-known these days, but I'm sure they don't mind this whole, free promotion I'm serving here."  
"I can respect that. Maybe you can help turn kids back to the good stuff instead of this modern day travesty we call music. Puns and all."  
Now usually I'd defend Pop Music, as crazy as it makes me sometimes, but he flashes a smile I wasn't really expecting, and I suddenly feel a lot more nervous than I probably should. Wow, he is pretty attractive, isn't he?  
"Uh, yeah, maybe...”

Oh boy, my nerves are starting to go south. Better wrap this up as quick as I can. 

“You know, Rob, I-"  
"Don't call me that."  
"Oh…Sorry, I didn't mean..."  
"S'alright,” he says, tilting his head towards the restrooms, “She's the only one I really let get away with that."  
He gives me another smaller smile. Looks like I'm forgiven this time.  
"Well, what I was going to say is,” I turn to pour the cup, “I wanted to let you know that caffe lattes and espresso machines are some good reasons to come into a coffee shop, but I think the best reason to come into my coffee shop is for, like, the sense of community."  
"Sense of community, huh?"  
"Yes...Um, you see, when you run a place like this coffee shop, you start to gain your regulars after a while. And I've gotten to know them, and they get to know each other too.” I pop a lid onto the to go cup and turn towards him again, “I feel like I also know all my neighbors better by having this place so close to the area, and it's always a good time when one of them comes in. I always felt that, people can be at their best when they feel a sense of belonging, and that helps drive them to support others to be better too. Even if it's just to a group of people that like to make musical coffee puns.” Lastly I add on a sleeve. “So, with that said, it'd make me happy to see you and Marilyn stop by again sometime soon. And not just as customers, but as, like, friends...?"

I am SO painfully aware of how I ended that last sentence like a question as I slide him his drink with the best smile I can manage. He's just looking back at me with a confused look. Then he looks at his cup for a moment before he carefully takes it, making sure to hold it by the sleeve. 

"...That's real nice, Mat. Real cute." He looks away towards the windows, pensively. I can't tell if he's being sarcastic or...well, he does look disinterested in what I just said. "...To be honest, we moved out here with the intent to start fresh. Back home in Brooklyn, things weren't so great...But, maybe they'll get better with guys like you around. So, thanks." He takes a sip, and tips the cup at me approvingly, "You'll have my business again, barista man."  
"Rob, really? Another coffee? You won't sleep at this rate!"  
Marilyn walks up to the counter, tangling her arms with one of Robert's.  
"Lyn, it's for the work we got ahead of us. I'll definitely catch some sleep after hauling around all those boxes." He sets his coffee down as he fishes for something to pay with.  
"Well that's your fault, most of those boxes are just for your movies."  
"You watch 'em too, sweetheart."  
Robert takes another sip, lip corners curling when Marilyn squints her eyes. They really must get along under all that back and forth. She turns to me, softened face, "Thank-you for the hospitality, Mat. Hopefully we'll see ya around more, in and out of the coffee shop."  
"Of course, pleasure to meet you both."  
"We'll try to swing by again soon."

And just as unexpected, Robert winks at me with a smirk as they both turn to leave. It's admittingly more than enough to make my face burn a bit, but it seems worse since he also winks at me right in front of Marilyn too. She easily catches him, but to my relief only playfully punches him. Her face tells me she’s more amused than anything, and just as the door swings I can still hear her as she whispers, "Stop flirting already!" followed by him chuckling. Haha, he must do that kind of thing a lot. A real Joker, he seems to like a good joke...

I clear my throat for no real reason and assess my sink from the counter. It's still a tad early in the morning, but brunch time is just around the corner so I better get these dishes sorted before the rush…

…

A lot has happened since then, and now some things are different. But one thing that hasn't changed is that when Robert comes in the morning a little after nine-thirty, he orders a drink, and always manages to sit in that same spot they used to share. But today wasn't a typical Godspeed You! Black Coffee kind of day.

"Let's make it a Caffe La-ha-tte today, Mat," he says in a half-hearted attempt to correctly pronounce that goofy name I picked so many years ago.

That means he's feeling off today. Well, more off than usual. It's a thing that happens occasionally, and there's not a lot I can really do to try an help him feel better. I have a suspicion that the steamed milk is all he's really after. And honestly I don't blame him.

"You got it, dude."

He silently leaves his money on the counter and heads to his usual spot, phone already out. I don't need to count it. It's always rounded up and plus one. Maybe I can try and latte art a cute little mischievous looking ghost into it. He might like that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time posting a fic, so please excuse any technical errors or whatever.  
> I enjoy the idea of Mat/Robert, so here goes an attempt to make something out of it.  
> Hope you liked it.


	2. There Are Two Types...

I'm the kind of person who prefers to shower in the evening. That way I get a little more sleep before I have to get up in the morning. I'm out the door by half-past five, and usually can get to the shop before a quarter till six. Add that to my pre-measured and mixed assortment of baking supplies, and I'll usually have some fresh baked goods out of the oven and given just enough time to cool when I open up shop at seven.  
Of course, I'll take few more minutes of shut-eye where I can get them. When the oven starts to warm up the place behind the counter as my goods bake, it's very tempting. Just a few minutes...I think I deserve i-

*ping*

The noise slightly startles me awake. It's my phone. Huh, it's not even six twenty, so it's probably not Carmensita. Then it must be-

*ping*  
*ping-ping*

Robert. "Cryptid Hunting" again I'm sure. Let's see here.

\----------  
hey. hey mat.  
\----------  
i went cryptid hunting last night. didn't find much. unlock the door for me will ya?  
\----------  
i'm coming in so don't make me knock.  
\----------  
you know I'll knock.  
\----------

Yeah, he will. Scared the hell out me the first time too. But I've pretty much always went ahead and allowed Robert in earlier than usual. Though before, it stemmed from the early hours of his working days. He doesn't much come in so early anymore, but every now and then it'll happen. I guess I could say no, but I honestly don't mind.

I'm groggy but I get up to unlock the door and go back to check on my oven. They're looking good. Muffins, banana bread, and an apple pie. Ah, it's so warm...

*jingle*

Oh, faster than I thought.

I come to the front to find Robert, back leaning against the counter wall and rubbing his hands together. He's wearing his leather jacket, thankfully, but it looks like a plain white t underneath. In this weather? I can still feel the last bit of cold that the outside let in reach my nose. Summer is definitely over.

"You won't be able to try and catch cryptids for much longer, Robert. The last thing you want is to catch your death of cold out there instead. They win that way."  
He snickers, "It's not win or lose; it's a matter of man's will to seek out the beasts and the resulting principles they reject, both within society and the dominion of nature. Go big or go home, Mat. I thought you were punk."  
"Like the 'Dover Ghost'?"  
"... Alright, Mister Know It All. I make one miscalculation, and now I can't live it down, can I?"

I try not to but my lips twist as I hold back a smile. He eyes me as he blows on his hands again, but his lip corners curl. I'm pretty sure I know most of his tricks at this rate, but then again he never seems to run out of material. All I know for sure is despite his seemingly passable soberness, he's obviously been drinking all night again. His eyes look bloodshot and the smell comes at me strong when he blows.

"Let me get you something to warm up."  
"Coffee?" He sounds hopeful. But no.  
"I'm giving you a latte macchiato, Robert."  
"Isn't that espresso with a splash of milk?" He makes a face. I'll never understand how this dude prefers shots of whiskey to shots of espresso.  
"No, I added a new one, remember?" I call as I get some supplies from the back. "The caffe macchiato is the Macchiato Davis. I'm giving you the Macchiato DeMarco. Basically warm steamed milk with a mark of espresso," I say with emphasis on mark. Maybe he doesn't care for all the non-English names, but 'macchiato' literally means 'stained' or 'marked'. There are no 'splashes' when it comes to coffee. I mean that's why the Mac DeMarco pun works so well! It's like double the pun, and he makes a good contrast to Mac Davis in both musical style and time, and it totally shows in who orders what. But, uh, yeah. Im getting off track again.

"Oh yeah," he squints at the menu. "What's even the point of the espresso then?"  
"Caffeine of course," I take some milk from the mini fridge under the machine and pour it into a small pitcher. "It also gives it a bit of flavor. But not to where it's overpowering."  
"Hm, you know what I like, Mat."

I start preparing the drinks. If I make him a latte macchiato, I might as well make myself a caffe macchiato to wake up with the leftovers. It's almost time to pull the goods out of the oven, and I'd rather not burn myself by being too careless. As I start to load the espresso machine, I can feel him watching me as I work, which is fine. Bartenders are the one with the reputation for having cool tricks and things like that, but Robert has come to appreciate my whole routine here. The coffee drinks aren't as numerous, but what baristas lack in quantity and versatility we make up for in quality and reliability, I think. I think he thinks that too.

I pour most of the freshly steamed milk from the pitcher into a latte macchiato glass and take it to the counter. After filling my demitasse cup with a double of shot espresso, I simply pour about a fourth of the espresso slowly into his glass and pour a bit more steamed milk from the pitcher to fill in the gap in mine. He doesn't need too much if he's been out all night.

"Here we are. Go ahead and drink up."  
"What a difference though," he says as he looks between the two.  
“It might be smaller but mine packs quite a punch. Yours, on the other hand, should give you some time to rest and get warm until the pastries are done baking. The caffeine will kick in then."  
He raises and eyebrow, amused, "You keeping me here, Mat?"  
"I'll give you a muffin before you go."  
"..."  
"It'll be coffee cake."  
"Yeeeees."  
I can't help but chuckle at his quiet but genuine enthusiasm, "I'll bring it over. But for now, you drink that and lay your head down, okay?"  
"Alright then."  
As always, he makes a B line for his usual seat and takes a load off. I sip on my own drink as I watch him. Damn, does he look exhausted though. I really wish he'd stop doing this to himself...

...

*Thud-Thud-Thud-Thud-Thud*

With a slightly embarrassing yelp I jolt awake. Someone knocking at the door...?

It's too early for this.

I make my way to the front and find no one. Maybe they read the sign after they attempted to come in? Figures. Anyone with eyes can see tha-

"HEY!"  
"AHHH!"

I jump back and knock into my pastry display shelf, almost losing my footing. Holy shit! Who is that?

With an adjustment to my glasses, I see it's, "... Robert?"  
"Daddy?"

Aw no, Carmensita woke up. I look down as she walks ups to me, rubbing her eyes. I hope she wasn't scared awake like me. And then you got this asshole just staring blankly through the glass.

"Who's that man, Daddy?"  
"...You have a daughter!?"

Oh for Pete's sake.

I grab my keys and open the door. You can't hear anything too clearly through the glass without yelling. But just as soon as it opens, he walks right in! Who does this guy think he is!?

"Robert, do you realize it's," I turn to the clock, "that it's six thirty-four in the morning? On a Saturday? I don't open up for another half hour!"  
"And then ya add another hour to that on weekdays," he replies, fishing into his pocket, "But now I know why." He finally grabs a couple pieces of paper, and takes a knee, basically ignoring my existence now, "Hey there, kid. Didn't realize you were in here too."  
Carmensita comes closer to me. She looks a little worried. "Is my Daddy in trouble?"  
"Huh?"  
"Why would I be in trouble, baby?"  
"Yer a policeman, right? Where's your shiny hat an' your shiny badge?"

I take a better look at Robert's clothes. Oh, I guess he is wearing a uniform. It's probably very dark navy, but looks black in the current lighting. No badge, but I see two different patches on either of his shoulders.

"Nah sweetie, he's fine, your both fine," he assures. "I'm not a policeman, I'm an EMT."  
He's an EMT?  
"What's that?"  
"I'm one of the people who drive the ambulance and takes sick people to the hospital when they need help," he says, steering an imaginary steering wheel.  
"Oh..." Then she becomes even more worried, "So then is my daddy sick? Are you going to take him?"  
"No, no! No, in fact I was hoping he could help me. But before that, here, takes these."

He extends his arm and shows her the papers. Oh they're-

"Stickers!"  
"Yeah, stickers!" he says, mimicking her, "Sorry for scaring you, kiddo."  
She happily takes them, "My name is Carmensita Sella."  
"Carmensita Sella, okay. You can call me Mr. Small then."  
"Okay, thank-you Mr. Small!"

She happily takes her bandage dog and happy heart stickers back to the couch where she was sleeping earlier and immediately starts to peel them.

"Don't put them on the couch, Carmensita," I call.  
"Okay!"  
"How old is she?"  
I turn my attention back to Robert, "I'm sorry?"  
"She's about five, right?"  
"Uh, six actually."  
"She's beautiful."  
"Ah, yeah, she is. Looks a lot like her mom."  
"Is she around? I didn't scare her too, did I?"  
"She's, actually, not with us... anymore. She passed away almost three years ago."  
"Oh," his face immediately drops, "Sh-ah-mm...I'm sorry."  
"No, don't be, it's not anyone's fault."

I was kind of dreading this. When the Smalls moved in last Wednesday, Joseph was thrilled to have another excuse for throwing another cul-de-sac barbeque. But it wasn't going to be until next Saturday. I guess Robert must work a crazy schedule as an EMT. Since Wednesday he had been coming in with Marilyn. Though now that I recall, yesterday he took their drinks to go, saying Marilyn goes to work early too.

"Right. I just, know what it's like to lose a mother at a younger age."  
"Oh."  
"Yeah, anyways," he announces, clearly as uncomfortable as I am, "It's almost six forty now. I was gonna ask if you'd help a coffeeless neighbor out and let me buy a cup before my pain in the ah-butt," he corrects himself looking over at Carmensita, "twelve hour shift, but I should probably-"  
"I have a personal pot I made, like, twenty minutes ago," I interject going towards the back. I don't want it to be awkward, "I could brew you a fresh pot, but it might take another ten minutes!"  
"Nah, twenty minutes is fine!" he calls back.  
"Alright, I probably have just enough for a medium-"  
"A small should be fine!"  
"Suit yourself!"

I take a small to-go cup and fill it with coffee. I'd rather make it fresh, but I suppose just this once is okay. All he really wants is the caffeine, right? I'm sure working as an EMT makes you tired quickly.

I bring it out to the counter where Robert patiently waits.  
"Uh, it's usually a dollar fifty. But since it's not fresh-"  
"Here's five for putting up with my troublesome ah-butt. Butt. I am so sorry. As soon as kids stop being kids, you stop with the filtering, you know?" he takes a sip. He has kids too, huh? "Whoo! ...Wow, that's strong."

I can't help but snort a bit. I do like my brew a little stronger than most do, which is why I have a personal pot. Maybe I should've said something, but he looks content to hit the condiments.

"What do you call this?"  
"I guess my Black Coffee Revelation brew, if I had to pick a name."  
"Ha, I gotcha. You got jokes Mat, that's fine."  
I chuckle a bit more as he stirs his concoction of sugar and cream. He's kind of a wimp, isn't he?  
"Alright, I have just enough time to make it to work, see ya, kid!" he calls to Carmensita.  
"Buh-bye!" She leaps off the couch to meet him but it doesn't look like he can stay any longer.  
"Thanks again for the coffee, Mat! Text me some time, okay?"  
"What? But I don't-" The jingle of the door tells me he's gone, "...have your number..."

Well, okay. I look at the clock, it's getting pretty close to six forty. I haven't opened the register yet, but I think I'll get the toppings ready first. I go to pocket the money when I realized he left a napkin there.

"Is it another sticker for you, Daddy?" Carmensita comes up towards to counter.  
"Not a sticker, but it is for me."  
"Look, I'm a empty too!"  
She shows off her arms. I see she took both stickers and stuck them to her shoulders, just like Robert had his patches.  
"I can help everybody who's sick by racing a car!"  
"That's great, sweetheart," I chuckle. Kids.

...

*bee-bee-beep*  
*bee-bee-beep*

I guess I must've spaced out because my oven alarm goes off. Ah, time to pull 'em out. I put on my mitts to start handling the hot metal. The coffee cake muffins always go the fastest, or 'Coffey Cakes'. But my Right Said Banana Bread is getting pretty popular too, thanks to the name. I'm really glad Andy gave me that suggestion.

*jingle*

That's the door.

"Hey Mat!" comes a boisterous voice, "You left the door open!" Six forty, good timing. There's a pause in footsteps, followed by a softer, "Yo Robert, didn't see you there, man."  
A distant "Mm-hmm" comes as a reply. He must've actually taken a nap.

Pablo comes waltzing into the back towards the closet, wearing a nearly worn out Siouxsie and The Banshees t with a pair of dark purple cargo pants tucked into a black pair of slip resistant combat boots. He has his green hair done up in a bun, though he missed a few strands here and there. He's holding a dark gray zipper hoody, getting ready to put it away.

"Don't you know if you feed a stray dog, it'll always come back, Mat?"  
I look at him as he passes, kind of surprised by that, "He's just as much a stray as you are, Pablo."  
"Hey, I've known you since I was twelve!" he pouts.  
"Exactly." ...I'm not exactly...mad at what he just said, but, either way, my natural reflex seems to be a smile. I go back to preparing my toppings, "I've known Robert for eight plus years. He's cool. Also not a dog."  
"A cat then. It makes more sense. Cats do as they please, ya know? And you actually like cats, for whatever reason."  
"Yeah, cats are awesome." ...Wait what?  
"But are you sure he's cool, though?" he grabs an apron and ties it on, "So far, on average he does this, like, every two months, Mat. That's no good. I've been here for almost six months now. This is the third time. Has he always done this?"  
"It used to be a regular thing, yeah. He started work before I opened, so I let him in earlier for a coffee. We're neighbors after all. I guess old habits die hard?"  
...Hm, that doesn't quite fit though, does it?  
"So you're not, friends or anything, then? Just neighbors?"  
...Why does he sound so bothered?  
I guess I stay quiet for too long, "...Look, dude, it's your place, he's you neighbor, and if you're cool with it, fine. But if I were you, I'd make sure he at least didn't smell like alcohol first." He sighs and comes to my side, taking the bowl from in front of me, "You got like fifteen minutes till we open. Go ahead, I'll finish decorating and start a fresh pot on the dot."  
"...Pablo, do you have a problem with Robert?"  
"Well, if he's doing what I think he's doing, then yeah, I have a problem with Robert."  
"...I don't really-"  
"I know it's none of my business, Mat," he interrupts, "I just, care about you, man. That's all."  
I wasn’t going to say that. Wow, I’m not exactly sure how this conversation got so weird so fast, but, I guess we'll talk later, "Thanks Pablo."

In a couple more minutes the muffin is cooled, boxed, and ready to be eaten. I finish my macchiato as I walk over to Robert. Looks like he had gone back to napping, arms crossed and head back. He nearly finished his drink. I guess he wanted to save some for the muffin.

"Hey, Robert."  
"..."  
"Robert," I say a little louder, "Wake up, dude."  
"...hm..."  
"I'll poke your face, Robert. I'll keep poking face till you wake up. You know I'll do it."  
"..." He slowly opens his eyes and they meet mine after a moment or two, "...Not enough caffeine."  
"Too much whiskey," I correct, "The cold air will do the rest," I say, handing him the box. "C'mon."

With a stretch, a yawn, a bite, and a finishing swig, we make our way towards the door. He's kinda slow but keeps a steady pace as we walk side-by-side in silence. I can see him staring at his box from my peripherals, like he's really thinking. His eyebrows are knit and his tired eyes look glassy. Seems like the last of his drunken stupor is finally gone. It makes me wonder if he overheard us in the back...? No. He was sleeping. Even if he did, it's fine. It's fine, I have nothing to worry about. I'm not really in the mood to be having anxiety before seven in the morning today. Not today. Just look ahead Mat. Look ahead and walk Robert to his house...

And suddenly I'm very aware of my tongue. Great. Here we go.

When we do get there, I hover very uncomfortably between his door and his rather elongated doorstep. I don't know if I'm too far or too close, but either way he fiddles with his keys a bit before he gets the door unlocked.

He turns around, looking like he's about to say something, but at the last moment he looks away.  
"... Thanks," he says, tapping the box with his fingers.  
"No problem," I reply. It kinda helps to know that we're both a little stiff here, "Get some rest, okay?"  
"Yeah."  
"... Alright."

He lifts his box at me a bit in a goodbye of sorts and I nod, turning back towards The Coffee Spoon. After a few steps I hear the door close gently. I guess I did enough today. Helped a tired...neighbor get back to his house after a rough night.

I think about what Pablo said, but I just don't think he understands. He's still essentially a kid. He's never owned his own house, or had to pay a mortgage. He doesn't know what it's like when your house was once a home you shared with someone. It feels empty when you're alone, no matter how much stuff or furniture you have. Yet somehow, it can be bare-bones room essentials, and it feels like you'll suffocate if you stay inside too long. Sometimes all we need is to get away for a while. Unfortunately for some people, that means in more ways than just one.

The sky is getting lighter and lighter as I finally get back to the shop. Pablo finishes ringing up the woman who has a boutique just a few doors down, Monica. She always gets a hot medium hazelnut latte and one of the first Coffey Cakes.

I hold the door open for her as she makes her way out.  
"Thanks, Mat! See ya later," she chimes, speeding up her step.  
"No problem," I smile.

I let the door swing closed and go back to the back. Hm, feels like the macchiato should've kicked in by now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this far, chapter three is on the way!


	3. Habits

I immediately start to open my box once the door is closed. My fucking head hurts something awful, but smelling the treat as I make my way towards the couch helps a little. Always does. Doesn't help my stomach any though. A full whiff of that brown sugar and cinnamon crumb topping is too much and a growl finally declares my fast growing hunger.

Damn these stupid delicious cakes. They're pretty to look at, definitely, but even better to stuff my mouth with. So moist and tasty.

I shuck off my jacket and take my second bite when I hear a scurrying. Betsy comes running right towards my legs, nearly crashing into them. She's all wound up for the day, I must've woken her up.

"Good morning, girl. You hungry too?"  
She barks and sits with a butt wiggle, waiting for me to hand her a piece. God she's so cute.  
"Nope, this one's mine."  
Doesn't stop her from licking up the crumbs I drop from my hand and mouth.  
"Shit."

I make my way over to the kitchen table and place the box down so I can look through the pantry a little easier. Better give Betsy food, she's a growing girl after all. While I'm at it, maybe I'll make some coffee. That drink Mat made me helped take the whiskey in my system down a notch, but doesn't do too much else. And I don't want pickle juice ruining my muffin. Hm, where is it? ... Do I, not have any? Oh hell, what's the point of coffee cake with no coffee? WHY DON'T I GOT STALKED COFFEE IN MY KITCHEN?

... Oh yeah the drip broke. And come to think of it, I don't know where my moka pot would even be. Yikes, Nonna would be pretty pissed off about that.

...Well, not just that.

"Fuck it."

Making a mental note to find it later, I scoop up some kibble from the bag and pour it into a red bowl. Betsy eats happily as I work on the rest of my muffin and wash it down with a glass of water. It's for the best anyway. Homemade coffee doesn't compare when you got a place like the Coffee Spoon just around the corner. It's always been better than anything I bought at the store. And I can go whenever I want. Well, at least until the owner cuts me off and tells me to go to bed in that soft, polite way of his. Literally after unnecessarily walking me home. Can't even kick me out like a proper businessman, that guy.

...But I am grateful for that. And it's kind of cute, really. The way he tries to act cold and aloof, all the while making sure I'm okay and feeding me like a worried grandmother, or reluctantly cracking a smile. I'm sure this all does more than just annoy him, but apparently not enough to the point he'll lose his patience or ignore me.

In all honesty, he really should, though.

It's not like I'm helpless. Granted, I act like a bum sometimes, and my house is a goddamn disaster zone of a mess, but I'm definitely not helpless. So, if I go there at the end of the night, it's not to beg. That's pretty obvious. And I know he knows that much...

...What were he and that loudmouth talking about? Cats? The brat yelled something about cats...Then I heard him say my name pretty loud too. From tone alone, sounds like the kid doesn't like me too much. I already knew that though. Even on my usual morning visits, he'll be eyeing me like a security guard does a mallrat four out of five times I catch his stare. Why he seems so threatened, I have no idea. But if he told Mat he doesn't like cats, that was a mistake. Mat adores cats. Poor guy just doesn't have the time or the nerves to keep one without worrying his head off about it.

Hm. And to think I really only think about him when things like this happen. Of course, maybe I'm only like this for the people who show me even the littlest bit of kindness. Like Brian. Brian's always been great, despite his tendency to fixate on his daughter. He doesn't judge much. Damien is alright too, though, he still seems at a loss without Mary around. I'll give him credit for starting a conversation about Victorians and their facial hair that one time, though, which somehow lead to Madam Clofullia, the original bearded lady of freak show fame. It was a very... detailed conversation.

But still, Mat's different...

I down the rest of my water and head back to my couch. Maybe I should listen for once and sleep off last night's stupidity. But of course, as soon as I sit, my pant pocket vibrates.

♪♪♪  
Now we are ready to head for the Horn  
Weigh, hey, roll an' go!  
Our boots an' our clothes, boys, are all in the pawn  
To be rollicking randy dandy o!  
Heave a pawl-  
♪♪♪

"What is it Mary?"  
"It's almost eight in the morning now, sailor." Her voice is a little stern, "Hadn't heard from you is all."  
"I've been home."  
"You got Coffee Dad to walk you home again?"  
"Does it matter?" You'd think she'd come up with a better name than that.  
"It matters when you don't check in. He'd be the first person after me they'd ask about your sudden disappearance, you know. Try not to put us through that."  
"I get it, sorry. Slipped my mind. Now, if ya don't mind, I'ma get some shut eye."  
"Robert, one more thing."  
"Hm?"  
"We're having another barbeque tomorrow."  
"Alright."  
"I'll keep your seat warm for you."

And with that, she ends the call. Ugh. I set my phone on the coffee table and lay down. What if by chance, I just never woke up again? I wouldn't have to go to that stupid barbeque, and no one would have to fret over me anymore. I lay with my back against the sofa's backrests, head on its armrest. I throw my jacket over my head to block out the emerging rays of sunlight coming in from the windows behind me...It smells like a wasted night full of bad choices. God I'm so tired of everything.

But what I don't realize, is with my arm dangling over the side, it's low enough for Betsy to come up and start licking at my fingers. For a moment I wonder if she tastes the sweetness.

"...Mary would take care of you for me, even if she had to keep you at the shelter."

She stops licking and jumps onto the sofa. I don't really have it in me to scold her though, so I just bend my knees as she makes her way between a backrest and my legs. But as soon as she settles in, I take a peak at her, and she rests her little puppy head on my thigh, looking back at me. She gives my jeans' seam a couple licks, looking at me with those dark little eyes.

"Tch, suit yourself. With my luck you'll probably go before I do anyway..." I reach over to pat her head, "Let's hope I can manage to help you live a good full life before then, huh?"  
She licks at my hand one more time before her eyes start to gently shut. I figure it's about time I do the same.

-

"Say, you alright, Mat?"  
"Hm?"

I'm snapped out of my thoughts and see Brian looking right at me. Or rather I was looking at Brian? Looking past him? Either way, that was rude of me. He looks worried.

"You seem spacey today. Which is kinda funny, considering the last round of trivia had to do with space!"  
"Hah, good one, dude," I reach towards the cheeseboard and pick a nice looking specimen. Whatever it is, it'll be delicious, "And yeah, I'm fine. Just a little more tired than usual is all... Where are Carmensita and Daisy?"  
"They're using the little girl's room now that we're on a break."  
"Oh."  
Brian stays quiet for a few more moments while I figure what kind cracker and jam I should try next. No matter how many times we come to the diner, I never seem to run out of combos to try. Sure, some aren't meant to combo, but then again, some people will tell you you can't drink cappuccinos after ten in the morning. Each to their own.  
"You know, if you're not feeling too well, we could leave early today."  
"And miss out on this cheesy goodness? I don't think so." That's sweet of him though. Good ol' Brian, "Besides, aren't we in the lead, as per usual?"  
"That we are!" he smiles triumphantly.  
"Then let's keep it going. Provolone 2: Lost in New York didn't gain it's rep from quitting early."  
"Sure," he agrees happily, but then a little more quietly, "As long as you are feeling okay, though."  
"Maybe it felt like I had a longer day of work today," Between Pablo's cryptic responses to my questions and Robert's resignation this morning, it was hard to not feel an uncomfortable flurry of nerves and negativity run through my head today, "but this cheese will have me healed in a few seconds."  
Brian let's out one if his deep laughs, seeming content with my response. I'm thankful.

Just then the girls appear and sit back down facing each other as well.

"We're back!" Daisy happily announces.  
Carmensita takes a look at me as she settles in next to me and playfully clicks her tongue, "Dad, did you just pair brie with quince paste?"  
"Why yes, yes I did," I say, taking a bite...hm, not bad.  
"Brie would go much better with the fig paste. You know, the one next to it?"  
"Honey, you should try everything once. Even if it means being a rebel."  
"Then I'm gonna convince Ernest to let me try his vape pen."  
I swallow hard, "... Everything within reason. Don't do that."  
Carmensita giggles, "Ew, of course I wouldn't do that."  
"Oh good," Daisy sighs in relief, a sentiment I share, "Even if it's just vapor, it's really annoying when Ernest uses it at barbeques..."  
"Better than him actually smoking though. But I'm sure he'll stop eventually. He just thinks he's cool," she rolls her eyes. That's my girl, "On the other hand, someone like Mr. Small knows better than to smoke in a place like a barbeque. There are babies there."  
"Mr. Small smokes too?" Daisy looks a little surprised, but mostly disappointed, "I didn't know that."  
"See? That's what I mean. I only know 'cause I saw him hanging out on his front yard early in the morning once. I went to get a drink of water and I heard an engine revving on the street, so I got curious and looked out a window. It was another man who was just leaving his driveway on a motorcycle. After he was gone, he took one more drag before he went back into his house. Why he smoked so early beats me, I wouldn't want that taste in my mouth before pancakes or something actually good. But at least he only does it with other smokers around. I'm pretty sure his friend had a cigarette too."

Brian makes a face at me I wish he wouldn't, and I only shrug back in response while I stuff the rest of my cheese in my mouth. It's really none of our business, but Brian and I were already pretty aware of that one particular habit of Robert's. I don't want to say anything, but it's moments like this that make me wonder just how... naive Carmensita still is. The thought makes me cringe internally.

"Well, that's pretty keen of you Carmensita," Brian comments, "Some people have their... vices, I guess is what you call them," I eye Brian as he explains, chewing slowly, "but, that doesn't mean you get to be rude about it. Robert may do things like that, but he's pretty... discreet. I appreciate that as his neighbor with a young daughter."  
"Exactly! That's what I'm saying," Carmensita chimes.  
"So I guess, Ernest doesn't need to stop, he just needs to learn better etiquette." Daisy thinks for a bit. Oh boy, it's the face of realization. "...They do keep selling things like that after all."  
"But it'd be better if he stopped," Brian adds quickly. "Even for all his courtesy, once you get old like us, all those years of smoking and drinking catch up to you. Maybe if Ernest realized how tired Robert usually looks and feels, he'd think twice."  
"I mean he orders a coffee from the shop almost every day, right Dad?"  
I swallow, "That he does, virtually always black too, so, I guess he really needs that caffeine to properly start his day. But maybe Ernest doesn't know Robert smokes, so, that could be a missed determent."  
"I don't think he'd really care either way," Daisy sighs.  
"Probably not," Carmensita agrees, "I guess in the end it's between him and Mr. Vega."  
"Well, Robert's already an adult," Brian starts, "But I'll have you girls know he's attempted to quit more than a few times. Nicotine is a nasty drug to get hooked on, not to mention all the garbage a regular cigarette carries. Kids these days are both lucky and unlucky that vape pens exist. If Ernest insists on sneaking a smoke, even Hugo can't really stop him. At the same time, however, I think it shows Hugo cares enough about Ernest to keep him away from normal cigarettes and second-hand smoke. But yes, hopefully he will stop soon. You wouldn't knowingly eat a candy with a razorblade in it, why would you inhale some sweet vapor with nicotine in it."  
"The same reason why some people drink more than two cups of coffee a day." I get what Brian is saying, but that comparison is a little much. "Caffeine is just as much a drug as any other. The thing about caffeine and nicotine, is they both give you a high like a burst of energy. That high makes you feel good. The problem is when people become addicted, they not only feel useless without their nicotine or caffeine hit, but actually need one or more to function. Like, more than two cups of coffee. Or, maybe half to a full pack of smokes in one day? Maybe it's for the best to leave those things out of your body all together, but personally, I think caffeine is still a lot better of a choice than nicotine, because the main difference between the two is nicotine is highly addictive. But even I make sure to limit myself to no more than two cups a day, and I own a coffee shop."  
"Well isn't this a whole lot of great advice from two loving fathers!"  
Oh. Wow. It's Quizzmaster Quinn. I guess it was about time he came up to our table.  
"Hi Quizmaster Quinn," Daisy greets wearily. Poor kid, maybe this is too much for her little heart to handle.  
"You know, girls, your Dads are right! I used to smoke two packs a day back in my college days!" His tone is a lot more cheery than I'd expect for the topic, but...well, that's just Quinn. "I used to think they helped me calm down when I was feeling anxious or nervous. But now, my doctor says it was probably the main exacerbator of my MS after diagnosis."  
Oh...Oh my God...  
"The irony here is that apparently, a study done not too long ago suggested pure nicotine itself might actually help manage my personal set of symptoms. Isn't that wild? Talk about a double-edged sword! But sometimes all we need is a someone special to help us quit the stick, just like my beautiful wife helped me," he sighs... happily, "Welp, we'll start the next round in one more minute! The topic is Maple Bay itself! How much MB pride do you all have? We'll all find out!"

And with that Quinn walks away to the next table. Ah, poor Daisy just looks exhausted while Carmensita and Brian look a little confused. That Quinn sure is a character...

"Well I think it's obvious what we have to do now, Daisy," Carmensita says, picking a combo of cheese and paste from the board.  
"What do we have to do?"  
"We have to find Ernest a girlfriend."  
"WHAT?"  
Brian coughs trying to hide a laugh while I just put my face in my hands. And my daughter thinks I'M the goofball here.  
"...'Sita, I don't think that's-"  
"Oh, you're right Dad, that's not fair."  
"Not that it's not fair, it's just-"  
"I don't know Ernest's tastes actually. You'd think I would, I've known him since I was five," she muses in between bites, "I'll have to investigate tomorrow."  
"... Alright."

I give up. I don't even care. As long as these two stay away from that vape pen, I don't even care anymore. Brian is failing to silently hold in his laughter and I'm just wishing for the next round to start. I take a piece of manchego and eat it, but I can't help but smile too. Stupid Brian's laugh is contagious.

Whatever these two get up to, I just hope my garbage can doesn't get set on fire. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Mary and her love of shanties! You a sailor who likes singing shanties and a drink among friends? Check out The Dreadnoughts for shanty covers like Randy Dandy O! and amazing originals too. You won't be sorry!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting a fic, so please excuse any technical errors or whatever.  
> I enjoy the idea of Mat/Robert, so here goes an attempt to make something out of it.  
> Hope you liked it.


End file.
